The envelope holding Henry’s possessions was tucked into her pocket, and that seemed to anchor her in this place. She stopped outside of No Name, taking a moment to look up at the faded building, and this time . . . she tried to really see it. To really think about the man who made his livelihood within its walls, once upon a time. To think about Maureen falling in love with that man, so much that she married and conceived two daughters with him.

She was one of those daughters. A product of that love. No matter what Piper felt for her past, it was real. And it wasn’t something she could ignore or remain detached from. No matter how much it scared her.

Feeling thoughtful and a little restless, she went to find Hannah.

* * *

Piper and Hannah stared down at the phone, listening to their mother’s voice through the speakerphone. “I reached out to Opal several times throughout the years,” Maureen said. “She’s as stubborn as your father was. She saw my leaving as a betrayal, and there was no fixing it. And . . . I was selfish. I just wanted to forget that whole life. The pain.”

“You could have told me about her before I came,” Piper intoned. “I was blindsided.”

Maureen made a sound of distress. “I was right on the verge and . . .” Maureen sighed. “I guess I didn’t want to see your faces when I told you I’d been holding on to something so important. I’m sorry.”

Twenty minutes later, Piper paced the scuffed floor of No Name while Hannah sat cross-legged on a barrel eating French fries, a thousand-yard stare in her eyes. Her sister was still processing the news that they had a freaking grandmother, but she probably wouldn’t reach full understanding until she could be alone with her records.

Reaching out to rub Hannah’s shoulder comfortingly, Piper looked around and surveyed the space. Was she suffering an emotional upheaval from the shock of finding a long-lost family member . . . or was she starting to develop an interest in this place?

They’d been so young when Maureen moved them. It wasn’t their fault they’d forgotten their father, but they couldn’t very well ignore him now. Not with pieces of him everywhere. And this disheveled bar was the perfect representation of a forgotten legacy. Something that was once alive . . . and now corroded.

What if it could be brought back to life?

How would one even begin?

Piper caught her reflection in a section of broken glass peeking out from behind a piece of plywood. Her talent for finding the most flattering lighting could not be discounted, but there were only a couple of cobweb-covered bulbs, with no light fixtures. It was basically anyone over twenty-five’s worst nightmare, because it highlighted every crevice in a person’s face. The place had a certain speakeasy vibe that could really benefit from some soft, red lighting. Moody.

Hmm. She was no decorator. Maureen paid an interior designer to come in annually and refresh the house in Bel-Air, and that included their bedrooms. But Piper understood atmosphere. What inspired people to stay awhile.

Some men went to bars to watch sports. Or whatever. But what packed a bar full of men? Women. Appeal to the ladies, and men started coughing up cover charges just for a chance to shoot their shot.

Where would she even start with this place?

“Just for the sake of argument, let’s say we wanted to pretty this place up. Considering we have limited funds, do you think we could make it worthwhile?”

Hannah appeared caught off guard. “Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. When I was talking to Opal, I started thinking how unfair it is that Henry’s own family never grieved him. Sure, it was mostly Mom’s decision, but maybe this is a way to make amends. To . . . connect with him a little bit. To have a hand in the way he’s remembered. Is that silly?”

“No.” Hannah shook her head. “No, of course it’s not. Just a lot to take in.”

Piper tried a different tack. “At the very least, this could be a way to convince Daniel we’re responsible and proactive citizens of the world. We could make over the bar, show him how dazzlingly capable we are, and get an early trip home to Los Angeles.”

Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not a bad idea. Not bad at all.” With a blown-out breath, her younger sister hopped off the stool, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans. “I mean, we’d need a DJ booth, obviously.”

“Over there in the corner by the window?” Piper pointed. “I like it. People walking by would see MC Hannah spinning and trip over themselves to get inside.”

The sisters had their backs to each other as they completed a revolution around the bar. “This place isn’t big enough for a dance floor, but we could build a shelf along the wall for people to set their drinks. It could be standing room only.”

“Ooh. That’s totally an option for a new name. Standing Room Only.”

“Love.” Hannah pursed her lips. “We’d have to do a lot of cleaning.”

They shared a groan.

“Do you think we could fix these chairs?” Piper asked, running her finger along the back of a lopsided seat. “Maybe polish the bar?”

Hannah snorted. “I mean, what the fuck else are we doing?”

“God, you’re right. Can you believe it has only been five days?” Piper dug a knuckle into the corner of her eye. “What is the worst that can happen? We do a ton of work, spend all of our money, Daniel isn’t impressed and forces us to finish out our sentence, which should really just be my sentence?”

“Don’t split hairs. And the best that can happen is we go home early.”

They traded a thoughtful yet noncommittal shrug.

In that moment, the final shard of sunset peeked in through the grimy window, illuminating the mirror behind the plywood. There was a white corner of something on the other side, and without thinking, Piper moved in that direction, stepping over empty bottles to scoot behind the bar and pinch the white protrusion between her fingers. She gave it a tug and out came a photograph. In it, two people she didn’t recognize appeared to be singing in this very establishment, though a much cleaner version, their hair proclaiming them children of the eighties.

“Oh. A picture.” Hannah craned her neck to get a better look at the area behind the plywood. “You think there’s more?”

“We could pull this board down, but we’re either going to end up with splinters or a herd of spiders is going to ride out on the backs of mice, holding pitchforks.”

Hannah sighed. “After cleaning that upstairs toilet, I’m pretty desensitized to anything unpleasant. Let’s do it.”

Piper whimpered as she took hold of the plywood, Hannah’s grip tightening alongside hers. “Okay. One, two, three!”

They threw the wood board on the ground and leapt back, waiting for the repercussions, but none came. Instead, they were left staring at a mirror covered in old pictures. They traded a frown and stepped closer at the same time, each of them peeling down a photograph and studying it. “This guy looks familiar . . .” Piper said quietly. “He’s way younger in this shot, but I think he’s the one who was in here Sunday night. He said he remembered Mom.”

Hannah leaned over and looked. “Oh my gosh, that’s totally him.” Her laugh was disbelieving. “Damn, Gramps. He could get it back then.”